


Improbability Within Grasp

by ChiwiTheKiwi



Series: The Dreamless Come Anew [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor has a dream, Dreams, Dreams are just a hell of a lot of symbolism as they are, Dreamscapes, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), I honestly don't know how else to tag this except, LITERALLY, Post-Canon, Sumo may or may not be a service dog, Symbolism, but like, dreams are weird enough as they are, so guess what this one could possibly mean, so just imagine an android having one, this is the product of me getting philosophical late in the night, who am I kidding he's definitely a service dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-30 18:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiwiTheKiwi/pseuds/ChiwiTheKiwi
Summary: Connor finds himself in a place he’s never known before.It both intrigues and terrifies him.





	Improbability Within Grasp

**Author's Note:**

> This concept is absurd, I know, but I was curious and so it happened. Plus, I get to do what I want with the power of "because I say so". I'll be writing two more of these, one for Kara and one for Markus.
> 
> If there's anything wrong with the characterisation, it's because I'm still learning how to write for a fandom I've only been in a very minimal amount of time. This is the first D:BH fic of many to come, so I'll learn in time.
> 
> (Thanks to a certain D:BH discord server for letting me spitball.) 
> 
> Enjoy?

**▬▬▬▬▬▬▬**

 

 

He sits on Hank’s couch as he thumbs through another of the fiction novels the man had set out for him. After he’d finished the last series within less than an hour, his partner had so graciously suggested that instead of scanning and speed reading, the android take his time looking over every word the book presents.

 

Hank had been totally right for doing so, and Connor found himself more deeply moved by each and every twist and piece of foreshadow. It made him come to a better understanding of just how much time may go into every narrative, especially ones seemingly so dedicatedly crafted such as these. 

 

Connor had to admit it, the man had good taste in reading for all his personality may provide doubts.

 

Time went on as he studied the contents of the book, the night stretching on as he continued to enjoy every moment. It was only as there was a nudge to the android’s knee that Connor finally tore his eyes from the pages. Black, curious orbs stare back at him, as the dog’s head rests itself upon his thigh.

 

Staring at the Bernard with a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he places the book on the coffee table in front of the couch as he reaches his other arm to rub between Sumo’s ears. The dog in kind nuzzles closer toward his stomach, the animal’s breath shifting the fabric around his middle. 

 

Connor gives in to the dog’s unspoken request as he spreads himself out across the entirety of the three-seater, head resting on the arm as his feet drape just over the edge on the other side. Taking this as an invitation, the animal easily steps up and onto the couch, in the process digging his paws into Connor’s sides as Sumo spreads across his torso and legs. 

 

With one hand running along the dog’s coat, Connor tucks an arm under his head, focusing in on the way the animal’s lungs rise and fall against his stomach. 

 

Taking a moment to make himself comfortable, the house becomes silent again. The only sound to be heard are the soft snores that escape through the dog’s nose. Hank has long since headed to bed, exhausted after a long day at the office and needing all the rest he can for the following morning of paperwork. Connor had offered to assist the man, but his partner had simply waved him off as he sipped from his tea (Connor had started more appropriate beverages rather than alcohol) earlier that afternoon. Dejectedly, he’d left Hank to his relaxation as they’d sat in a comfortable silence, the television playing an older buddy-cop show from a good decade ago. It hadn’t been long until Hank had pushed off down the corridor with a quick ‘goodnight’ as the door to his room had closed behind him.

 

Some nights his partner would wake up and join him back in the living room without a word, the source of his sudden awakening left unsaid. 

 

Connor never minded, allowing the man to find whatever security he needed in the android as a new cup of tea (specifically chamomile) was passed into his hand. It’d stay like that for however many minutes until the colour had returned to Hank’s face and he’d found what reassurance he needed to try for rest another time. 

 

Sumo would always follow him as he went, often sleeping with him for what remained of the night, eager to do his job well.

 

Connor had quickly come to learn that it was possible Sumo had been partially trained to heed to the cues of humans. At least, it’d seemed that way from what little he’d researched about service dogs and the like.

 

Just one of the many things he’d come to learn about how things worked in the Anderson household over the several months of his stay.

 

Sumo resettles himself with a light kick to Connor’s thigh which brings him to the unfortunate realisation of just how comfortable the dog had made itself upon his body. For how much of the animal’s mass was made of fur, he's still a firm weight atop him that keeps him pinned to the couch cushions. 

 

Connor may have messed up by allowing himself to be put in this position. 

 

With an internalised sigh, the android buries himself further into each familiar recess of the furnishing. A lull of nothingness sweeps over each portion of his systems as Connor allows himself to fall into his weekly rest cycle. 

  
  


**▬▬▬▬▬▬▬**

  
  


For a while, Connor recognises only the ever-frequent darkness that comes with slipping into his powered off state. It’s silent, unseen as everything is put out of effect, his systems manually flooding and recharging themselves. It’s always been this way, and it never should change.

 

But there’s something different. Connor just can’t piece together what that something is.

 

The subconscious built into his programming is here, and that’s normal, just as the complete lack of senses is too. 

 

It’s as if you’re looking at two of the same objects, yet one is altered just enough so that you can  _ feel  _ there’s something not quite right, but it’s practically impossible to figure out what that something is. It’s how Connor feels as he drifts in blissful nothingness.

 

Then, as what could be seconds, minutes, or even hours go by, a light flares from somewhere in the distance and instead of the darkness, there’s millions of tiny specks shining upon him from every direction. 

 

He opens his eyes — how it’s possible is beyond his understanding — and looks to the array of flaring beams that encompass every part of the scene around him. Now he can feel things too, but it’s the way he himself can move. He can feel the way his arms, legs, his entire body are held afloat by an unidentified force. 

 

He floats in front of the presence of an environment he’s never faced, and he’s suddenly confused to no end.

 

With his mouth agape, he twists his head and marvels at the way colour expands above him. Red and blue contrasts against the endless black, mixing together at points that create an even more vibrant purple. 

 

Connor’s eyes follow its trail further into the distance as he now feels things shift ever so slightly. 

 

It’s slow, and moments go by before he sees any true change, but then suddenly the colour is raining down around him. The shades only continue to mix, and suddenly he’s reminded of the snowfall from the previous winter. 

 

It’s something Connor can’t help but marvel at.

 

But there’s something underlying within him that makes him feel something akin to fear. 

 

This is something he’s never experienced before, which means it’s something he’s never been prepared to handle. He doesn’t even have a way to analyse the first step of how to begin acting upon it due to the fact he can still feel the way energy continues to course through his physical body. He’s still on standby, and his systems are not currently attuned to him.

 

He recognises that he’s both terrified, yet still astounded at the exact same time, and he has no idea what to do with everything going on around him.

 

It feels as though hours pass in the continued silence, the only thing to represent an actual change being the way the dust continues to float around him unceasingly. 

 

Everything stays exactly as it is, and Connor continues to tug in two directions as his emotions battle each other. 

 

Then, within just a second, everything flickers out again. 

 

The colours fade from view and the specks of light are gone with it. The inner turmoil scatters without any indication of having ever existing, and there’s nothing again. His senses stay off, the silence, sightlessness and any other hint to having exited his rest cycle still far away. 

 

It’s entirely bizarre, almost unsettling in fact.

 

But then there’s a sound, a faint glimmer from yet another distant ball of light, and a comforting warmth that overtakes what would be his body. 

 

The sound and light source are indistinguishable, but they’re familiar enough that there’s a sense of security to be found in them. 

 

Unknowing of what else he can do, Connor allows himself to revel in the feeling, desperate for something he knows to hold onto. An even longer period of time seems to pass. The light flickers faintly every few minutes to signify it’s still there, never once allowing the fragile embrace it holds around the android’s subconsciousness to give out. 

 

Then, seemingly with no prior warning, he feels himself snap into his physical body again, and before he can panic, there’s a weight that keeps him grounded to what he’s laying on. Fur rubs against his neck and chin, something slightly wet pressed into the spot just below his ear. Belatedly Connor realises Sumo is still keeping him company, even as he notices the morning’s glow that trickles in through the gap in the curtains nearby. 

 

With a moment to settle himself down, Connor pushes up on subtly shaky arms to which Sumo takes as his cue to back off. 

 

“Morning, Connor. See you’re finally awake then.”

 

The android looks to the side to see Hank perched on the edge of the other seat, pen in hand as he scribbles down into a file on his knee. He doesn’t even look up to meet his eyes as he continues to speak.

 

“It’s about eight in the morning. You must have either been out a while or decided that ass-o’clock in the middle of the night was the perfect time to get in your beauty sleep,” the man snorts with a teasing shake of his head. Connor can’t help but feel his mood lighten slightly at the remark.

 

“Late night, I do believe. Though my stasis was… peculiar, to say the very least.”

 

Hank seems to look up in a mix of curiosity and concern at that.

 

“Oh yeah? What about it?”

 

Connor tilts his head slightly, considering all the details he'd just bear witness to.

 

It’s nothing androids have ever described before, seeing anything but the exact same he’d known until that night. Yet, somehow, he’d managed to see something no one else has ever shared seeing, and just maybe…

 

A hand lands on his shoulder, prompting Connor to meet the gaze of his partner once again.

 

“Kid, you alright? You looked pretty lost in thought for a second.”

 

Connor nods, still uncertain as he both tries and fails to start a sentence.

 

No matter how he wants to word it, there's simply no completely logical or easy way to say it.

 

A few more seconds of tense silence passes between them, Connor’s brow creasing slightly as he tilts his head to the side. Hank waits patiently in front of him, watching as he opens and closes his mouth several times over. His eyes study him intently for any sign or cause for worry.

 

With one hand coursing its way through Sumo’s fur, his other reaches up to rub down his face in a sign of frustration. Settling it back in his lap again, he levels his eyes back to meet the other’s.

 

“How would you describe a dream, Hank?”

  
  


**▬▬▬▬▬▬▬**

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder what that dream could have meant? I mean, I know what it meant since I'm the author, but interpretation is always present, right?.
> 
> (I have a tumblr: [chiwithekiwi](https://chiwithekiwi.tumblr.com))


End file.
